


The Benefits of a Beta Reading

by KriegsaffeNo9



Category: Little Witch Academia
Genre: Annabel headcanon inbound, Dinner, F/F, Fluff, Just a little cussin', Not A Date(tm), Parody, Slightly obtuse references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2019-05-26 17:22:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15005690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KriegsaffeNo9/pseuds/KriegsaffeNo9
Summary: Annabel Creme invites Lotte to read her new work over a nice dinner at her favorite restaurant.  What could possibly go wrong?Suggested by the fine folks at Chill LWA.  2x shoutout to my own beta readers for their help with this one, especially Fandom Mistress for providing the title (well, 95% of it)!





	The Benefits of a Beta Reading

The dream faded a little after Lotte's eyes fluttered open. In the dream, she was tripping down a beach that was oriented at a 70 degree angle, trying to grab for rocks or unusually sturdy crabs to steady her fall. She'd just managed to stop herself by getting kicked in the midsection by a pier. She looked up into the sea, woke up, and saw Annabel Creme's faintly grumpy face emerge from the blackness beneath the waves, sickly gray in the brackish sea. The face of Mother Hydra herself, here to probably do bad fish monster things.

Lotte shrieked in terror and shrunk away from the specter of adorability. She jabbered in fearful Finnish before sleep left her brain and something like wakefulness crept in. "...oh, sorry, Annabel. I thought you were someone else."

"Some of us are trying to _sleep_ , you Zhardamned oyster cracker," Sucy said. Not that she'd actually been trying to sleep, but she had to get in a kick at Lotte when the opportunity presented itself.

"I figured," Annabel said. She sighed. "Look, I'm sorry to wake you up, I didn't know you'd be asleep at 8:30 on a Friday."

Lotte stared at her. "I... I took a nap at four..."

Annabel's expression softened. "Oh. I know that feeling. Well, good news, I was gonna ask if you wanted to--"

"Yes!" Lotte said, smiling so wide she felt she was in danger of bisecting her head. "I mean what, m'am?"

"I've got seats at Trader Vic's in London. Real swanky. I've got a script that needs proofreading and I trust you more than anyone else to be honest with me."

"A script? For a new Night Fall movie?!"

"'Fraid I can't say while there's other ears present."

"It's probably gonna suck," Sucy said.

"Hey, hush, you!" Akko said from somewhere below Annabel. "We gotta believe in her or nobody will believe in her! Or, uh, how's that song go?"

Annabel took a deep breath and recited the lyrics: "'You've got to believe in yourself or no one will believe in you.'" She held out a tiny hand. "Do you believe in me?"

"Of course I do," Lotte said, taking her hand. "...Should I dress up?"

"If you'd like," Annabel said, leaning a little closer.

"Oh, oh, I have the Cinderella Wand on me!" Akko said, "The one I got Diana for her birthday! Don't ask why I have it."

Annabel lost her balance, flailing and grabbing on to the side of Lotte's bunk. "Hang on, I think it's... hup... one moment... Annie, can you stand on one foot? I think I need to reach a little further under..."

"It's okay not to, though!" Annabel said, holding on for life.

* * *

Lotte decided yes to dressing up, but just a little.

The Trader Vic's of London was built into a hotel; Lotte felt (or imagined feeling, which was about the same thing in the grand scheme of things) dozens of eyes analyzing her outfit for imperfections or hints to the next Night Fall book. Well, good luck, random people on the sidewalk, there were no spoilers hidden in her clothes. She'd gone with a pastel blue blazer over a yellow sundress with modest pumps and a bright flower pin in lieu of her customary headband. These were all out of her own wardrobe, negating Annabel's balance sacrifice.

Annabel decided to mix up her usual look by wearing a long black velvet babydoll dress and a white headband. She took the lead, leaning forward on a hoverboard that tacked on a few precious inches to her height. She carried a small black purse decorated with raised wolf skull prints. "Have you ever been?" she said.

"Akko and Diana drunk-texted me once with pictures from a different Trader Vic's!" Lotte said. "It looks really good."

"It is," Annabel said, rolling to a stop in front of the surprisingly plain London Hilton entrance. Or at least one entrance. Lotte could see the red glow of Trader Vic's sign inside the door. "We'll have our own private table upstairs. It'll be great."

"There's an upstairs?!"

"This place is acceptably 'luxe," Annabel said. Not that Lotte knew, but she pondered if it was cooler to use an apostrophe or not. It was just "luxe" in Apocalypse World, but what if... ah, save it for later. "Anyhow, follow me."

Annabel led her through the lobby and into the restaurant proper. A wave of smells--fried seafood and fruity alcohols--washed over them. The interior was entirely wood and wood-related materials--rattan weaves on the ceiling, massive slabs of bamboo or fake bamboo (she couldn't tell) as supports, tiki statues taller than either of the ladies, walls tiled with evocative (hopefully reasonably accurate) Polynesian patterns. A smiling man in the least-casual Hawaiian shirt possible waited for them. "Miss Creme, Miss Jansson. If you'll follow me, please."

"Of course, Mr. Ambrose," Annabel said, not pausing for even a moment in her inexorable forward hoverboard-glide.

"Wow," Lotte whispered. "This is so... so neat!"

The concierge took them through a lounge where travelers drank and ate and chattered among themselves, past a dining room, and up a curving flight of stairs (which Annabel's hoverboard handled by sprouting plastic fangs and climbing while blaring [a short commercial jingle](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Afofc_Jt86s) the entire minute it took to ascend the stairs).

Their room was on the small side (some might say intimate, Lotte thought, and immediately banished that thought). The decor was lower-key, less "baby you're in some island in the Pacific probably" and more "here, let's have us a nice intim--I mean let's chill out in this wooden room with these tiki idols." Right, low-key beyond the giant tiki idols casting their gaze upon the table. Speaking of, the table was a little lower than the ones downstairs (but just perfect for Annabel), with curved benches to sit on instead of chairs. A waiter was already there, pouring out water for them as they took their seats.

"Cosmo tidbits, _s'il vous plait_ ," Annabel said, "and out of respect for my dear friend I will wait until she has time to look over the menu before we order drinks."

"Of course," the concierge said, and the two men left the room, leaving the girls alone. Hidden speakers played the Beach Boys at a low volume.

"Wow," Lotte said, a little louder this time. She picked up the menu, expecting a singing crab to step out to sing her dining options before resigning itself to death.

"Tragically they do not have rumaki here," Annabel said, "but there's always options. Might I recommend we get a drink to share? It's really quite impressive."

"To share?" Lotte said.

"Yes, to share. I..." She looked at Lotte looking at her, and her mouth just sort of stopped working. "...uh... you know... I think it'd be neat."

Lotte tilted her menu over her mouth. "But..." she said. "There's germs..."

"I'm not sick right now," Annabel said, "and I'm pretty sure you're fine."

"I did just sleep a lot out of nowhere. Maybe I have a cold or a flu."

"I've had my shots, I'm cool."

"Alright, if you... you know... maybe give me a minute."

"Yeah, yeah. ... I mean yes. Exactly yes. Sorry, I got carried away. They know me here, if I step in I just have to tell them what I want when I want it and there we go. It's my first time coming here with company, in, like..." She put her brain into it. "I think this might be the first time since I brought my publisher here. Jesus, I got wasted. Hard to believe it was... not two years ago, dear Lord."

"Wait. Two years? Did they ca--" One thought jumped out of the way and another hopped into view. "--you could drink two years ago?"

"Yeah."

"...how old are you?"

"...twenty," Annabel said, softly.

"You're TWENTY?!" Lotte said.

"I'm a little person," Annabel said after a long pause. "It's not easy to tell with the..." She gestured vaguely around her face. "...with the aesthetic. You know how it is. And, I mean, I'm tall for a little person. Four foot nine... 'bout 145 centimeters last time I checked."

Lotte tapped her menu against her mouth again, and realized she should've aimed higher to conceal the blush as she realized she had spent more or less every second she had known Annabel Creme, openly or otherwise, gushing about how adorable and tiny she was. "Oh..."

"It's cool," Annabel said. "It's always been cool. You've never been a jerk about it. Maybe a little excited but never a jerk."

"Are you sure I've been okay?"

"If I wasn't sure I'd have invited you to a McDonalds. So can we clear the air on that?"

"I'll try," Lotte said.

"Well. Let's see if this doesn't get things clearer." Annabel dug around in her purse and set out a rolled-up script onto the table; it unrolled, revealing a title that made Lotte gasp and the blush recede like the tide:

Marvel Studios and Netflix Presents  
THE IRON FIST/INHUMANS POWER HOUR  
Episode 203: Messenger In A Bottle (temp. title)

"You're writing for Marvel movies?! When can I tell Akko?" Lotte said, taking the script in hand and appreciating the weight of its forty-five-ish pages.

"Well, one of their shows. Not one of the high-profile ones, let's say." Annabel deigned took a sip of water. "If I'm gonna be totally honest it's kind of a backdoor pilot for a Microns series..."

"Micron? As in the--ohmygosh" Lotte opened the script and began reading. She hardly realized time had passed until Annabel cleared her throat and the smell of fried and grilled finger foods hit her nose at last. She looked up and saw a modest-sized plate of food at the center of the table and, surprisingly, a glass of colorful liquid right next to Lotte's water glass.

"I took the liberty of ordering you a Queen Charlotte fruit punch," Annabel said, gently cutting a few pork ribs from the ribmass. "Start you off soft."

"Thank you," Lotte said, trying to spear a fried prawn through the tail so she wouldn't have to navigate her mouth around a fork to get to the good parts. She ate that prawn, and she crunched a crab rangoon, and she got right back to reading.

> INT. KARATE TOMB - HUMID URBAN NIGHT  
>  SMASH CUT to KAMALA KHAN PETTING THE EVERLOVING HELL OUT OF LOCKJAW. If it is necessary film the actress petting a real bulldog and use camera tricks. She is VERY STRETCHY, this will NOT LOOK WEIRD.
> 
> KAMALA KHAN  
>  (Ad-lib dog praise for Lockjaw being a good boy)
> 
> LOCKJAW  
>  (continues to be a good boy)  
>  (Ad-lib dog noises)
> 
> PRINCESS MARION  
>  (offscreen, still inside moth jar)  
>  Hello? I'd like to pet the dog too?
> 
> KAMALA KHAN  
>  I don't see why not!
> 
> SMASH CUT to PRINCESS MARION PETTING THE EVERLOVING HELL OUT OF LOCKJAW. If necessary, have actress roll around on a shag carpet in Lockjaw's colors. Again: this will NOT LOOK WEIRD.

Lotte hiccupped and brushed away a tear. "I just... the part where... the part with the petting... it's beautiful. It's too beautiful."

"Oh thank God," Annabel said, eating the next-to-last of the cosmo tidbits. (It took Lotte a few minutes to rock through the next dozen pages.) "There's a lot riding on this script. They stunt-casted a bunch of writers and directors to try and, what's the word, build confidence in the weak points of the brand. I think they pulled me 'cause a previous Annabel wrote the X-Men/Micronauts/Night Fall crossover novels and they figured, hey, calling in Cremay Anna can't hurt." She took a swig of her Zombie. "And it won't hurt because as you've confirmed I've completely nailed it. You want that rangoon?"

"You have," Lotte said, "and thank you." She reached out for the rangoon and took a slow bite while finishing the script.

> PRINCESS MARION and BUG wave at the camera. Together, they SHRINK SUPER TINY and RETURN TO THE MICROVERSE with a tinkling spray of sparks that coincidentally spell WE'LL BE BACK!.
> 
> BLACK BOLT  
>  (Ad lib facial expressions of approval)
> 
> IRON FIST  
>  (Thumbs up)
> 
> MEDUSA  
>  (Confidently lights a gigantic spliff with her hair tentacles, ref: the famous art of Doc Ock)
> 
> Freeze frame on TO BE CONTINUED. Credit song: "Reunited" by the Wu Tang Clan. Annabel Creme holds out the mic and drops it and goes to take Lotte Jansson on a (splash of cream cheese).

"Wow," Lotte said. "You take me on a what now?"

Annabel blinked and with great trepidation swallowed her drink, making sure it went down the right hole. "Did that line--I, uh--you know. Take you on a dinner." Annabel seized the script and rolled it back up. "That's what I did."

"Yes," Lotte said, nodding, "that is what you did, and what we're doing." Her belly rumbled. "Are there more of those tidbits hiding on that plate?"

"No," Creme said. "But we have options." She whipped out her phone and texted. "Dear Mr. Ambrose," she narrated, "please send up more tidbits."

"You said there were other authors they hired?" Lotte said, finally taking a sip from her cocktail. Besides being slightly watered down from the ice melting, it was quite delicious and powerful sweet. "Anybody I'd know?"

Annabel's expression soured. "Well. Technically, there's one other author you've heard of." She sighed. "Sataniel Seventhson."

"The lady who wrote the Spirit Morph Saga?" Lotte said.

"The same." Annabel finished her Zombie. "Freakin' the Spirit Morph Saga! Who the hell's bright idea was to bring that broad onboard?" Her brow furrowed, and Lotte realized it was not in mock anger or exaggeration but in a legitimate and hitherto untapped fury.

Lotte deployed some mood-leavening giggles. "I know, right? She's such a... I mean, ah..."

"Do you like those books?" Annabel said.

"Not really, they never really sat well with--"

"Of course they didn't, because you have taste." Annabel texted again: "Another Zombie. I'm fighting mad. X O X O."

"Do you know what she's, uh, what her episode's about?" Lotte said.

"No," Annabel said. "I can't bring myself to look at her stupid face. Did you read Destiny's End?"

"No?"

"Do you know how many pages she devoted to the wedding cake?"

"Eighty?"

"Lower."

"...Seventy?"

"Lower."

"She couldn't."

"Fifty. It might as well have been a _goddamn sheet cake from Wal-Mart_. I could _murder_ her."

Lotte's heart hiccuped. "Uhm, did you really mean--"

"Metaphorically!" Annabel said. "But maybe literally! Jesus, her episode comes before mine. I'm _second_ on the goddamn list and I've historically _written_ for Marvel, not just existed on the same goddamn planet!"

The first scene, where the heroes walked out of a plume of dust and commented about how that last mission was a doozy and wondering if they should just get some lunch afterward, snapped into place. "So, wait, this is a serial, right?"

"Yeah, of course."

"But you didn't, uhm, read Sataniel's script? Did you ask her what was in it?"

"No. The opening took care of that. Plus, it's... you know, it's not like the TV Inhumans were all that big to begin with. I'm giving them a much-needed signal boost. Plus, who's gonna tune in to anything before I got my hands on it?"

"But it's like that time..." Lotte's brain froze. "Hang on, I'm going to text Akko, she'd--"

Annabel made a noise like "Nyyaaarp!" and vaulted over the table, crashing into Lotte. It would've been a nice and neat takedown if she hadn't flopped about a foot too soon and took the table and everything on it with her. They were tangled up in a mess of tablecloth and fruit juice.

The waiter sped into the room. "Pardon, is everyone alive?" he said.

"We're good," Annabel said, looking up from Lotte's midsection. "How're those tidbits coming along?" Her face was obscured by limp blonde forelocks soaked with Lotte's drink.

"They'll be ready soon, m'am."

"Wonderful. Kindly ring up another fruit punch for my d... for Lotte."

"I'd appreciate that," Lotte said, weakly.

"And we will fix the mess, of course."

"Appreciated times two," Annabel said.

It was Lotte that took care of the fruit juice spill while a team of attendants reset the table in under ten seconds. She conjured the spirit of the spilled drink; the juice cocktail flowed from her phone, the tablecloth and rug, and Annabel's hair, hovering in a swirling ball in midair 'til the last drop joined. With a soft poof, it formed into a chubby, smiling drink spirit. "Henlo!" it said.

"Thank you, spirit of wetness, for vacating our valuables," Lotte said. "But we both know what happens next."

"Yes, master," the drink spirit said, and somberly grabbed the sides of its head and snapped its own neck with the sound of cracking ice. It burst into raw mana, which Lotte absorbed into her wand to make up for the loss.

"Jesus," Annabel said.

"It must be done," Lotte said, holstering her wand. "You didn't have to jump me..."

"I'm sorry," Annabel said. "NDA. I got a little overprotective."

"You got really riled up!" Lotte said. "I mean, if you don't like how she writes, that's okay, but..."

She hoped that Annabel was going to interrupt, but no interruption came, and the two stood there in awkward silence until the waiter returned with two drinks and more food. The silence resumed once they sent the waiter on his way and the two stared at a plate of delicious pseudo-Polynesian appetizers wondering who should speak or act first.

"Maybe I should've gone easy on the Zombies," Annabel said, picking up her drink. "I might be getting stroppy-drunk tonight."

"You're drunk?" Lotte said.

"It's hard to tell, I know," Annabel sighed. "My tolerance is inexplicably massive. You'd think I'd be an easy drunk when I'm this small, but no, my genes have HAR 4 against alcohol." She tilted the drink toward Lotte. "Wanna try a little?"

"I... sure," Lotte said. Annabel took a quick sip and handed the drink to her; she regarded the tall ceramic cup and gave the drink a tentative sniff. When in readiness, she took a sip herself, and the drink bloomed on her tongue like an unfolding flower that happened to be on fire. "Whhhoooooah," she said, in the grip of an involuntary shiver. "That's delicious. What's in it?"

"Everything," Annabel said, tapping the table. "If you want it, go ahead. Just be warned it's really, really strong."

"It's fine," Lotte said, "I'm Finnish. We're... I think we're champion drinkers. My dad is but he's kind of built like a bear, so, who knows." She took a long sip and followed it with a crab rangoon.

"I'm sorry for jumping you," Annabel said, crossing her arms and resting her head on them. "I'm really sorry. I just... something about Sataniel really pisses me off and I can't articulate it. It just gets me furious."

Lotte adamantly counted the minimum safe chews before swallowing her tidbit. "It's good you admitted the problem! And, uh, even if you don't like the writing, I mean, I haven't heard her do anything dumb on Twitter or anything like that." She took a drink. "And my friend I made at the Enchanted Parade really likes her. Except 'book four.' I think that was the book you were talking about."

"Even the fangirls got their limits," Annabel muttered. "But, hey, maybe if I pass the idea along... get some kind of Cliff notes reacharound, she passes her notes to you, you pass her notes to me, I can, like... follow it up."

"I could read it for you too," Lotte said. "I don't dislike her that much."

"...crap, right, that's... that's obvious." Annabel buried her face in her hands. "Dammit, dammit, dammit. Why didn't I think of the obvious?"

"It's not obvious to everybody," Lotte said, cutting a spare rib for herself. "That's why we have beta readers at all!"

"I guess," Annabel said. "God, I'm sorry this is such a mess."

"I'm having fun!" Lotte said. "The food is good and your episode is like, mostly good! We just had a little, you know. Hiccup." She realized that she had drunk half of Annabel's Zombie by now. "Oh, speaking of sorry, though, I think I'm really taking out your drink."

"It's fine, we'll trade," Annabel said, reaching over and taking a swig of Lotte's Queen Charlotte. "Maybe we... uh..."

"Maybe we--" Lotte said, and the drink hit her empty stomach at last and the world lurched as if she were on a boat. Her head lurched another way, opposite her feet, and Annabel's pensive expression and slightly over-drawn "uh" hung in her head like a photograph of God. ... Why would that hang in her head? Like, because it would be important, or-r-r-r...

Lotte hiccuped. "Whas' this I'm feeling?"

"Oh, no," Annabel said.

* * *

Lotte didn't black out or anything, but reality became unreal enough that she didn't quite put together the string of events that led to her looking at a plate of roast duck and ... tortillas? That Annabel was assembling into duck tacos for her? And hey, there's some delectable-looking fried rice--

"Carbs," Annabel said. "Gotta soak up the moonohol, get you thinking straight."

"Th'wha?" Lotte said, and Annabel guided a rice-and-duck tortilla to her mouth. No, that wasn't a tortilla, but it was delicious. She chewed thoughtfully, every motion of her mouth like the tides of the sea, or maybe like the tides of the sea if there were solid tides she could think of. "Solid tides," Lotte said around her food.

"Shhh. Chew, don't talk."

Lotte chewed and gradually remembered not to talk.

"I'm sorry I got you drunk," Annabel said.

"It's fun," Lotte said. "Fine. Finely fun." She ate another taco. "I wanna marry a doll. Will they make a Princess... Mary? Marry the Princess, I get it..." She laughed.

"We can totally call her Princess Marionette, that's 100% Marvel-owned," Annabel said. "But I wanna leave the big naming for whoever gets to write The Microns. When it comes out. Unless Hasbro gets their Micronauts show out first... damn, maybe it'll be a Quicksilver-Scarlet Witch situation, where we get to split custody..."

"I'm gonna keep our babies," Lotte said. "Magic... babies. Like the Magic Trolls..." Her eyes opened wider, even given her glasses giving her that bug-eyes look. "Waaaait. That was Cider-Man... Spider-Man inna... do Marvel have them?! Can they do a thing?"

"The what?"

"Magic Trolls.. anna Troll Warriors. It was this tape my gramma got me after she went to America and said 'I bet these are really big' and she bought it from like a ten cent store that was on fire. But we still had a tape deck so we could watch it! Dad's got all these old tapes..."

"Yeah, keep talkin'," Annabel said, gesturing for her to continue. And she did.

* * *

"Maybe later," Annabel said, and Lotte snapped back to the present after getting caught up thinking about Lilou. "You know what to charge. And please, a tip, I insist." She fliffed a hundo onto the table and rode her hoverboard back to Lotte. "We'll be heading out. Thank you for the delicious food as usual, and sorry for the mess."

"All is well," the consierge said, waving vaguely.

"I miss Lilou," Lotte said, and began sobbing.

"I'm sorry I smack-talked her," Annabel said, guiding Lotte onto the hoverboard. They absolutely did not fit side-to-side but she tried to make it work. Lotte slouching onto her helped. "I didn't know. I mean, nobody really knew, but that's still kind of..."

"Can we stop bein' sorry?" Lotte said. Her face had turned completely red, her glasses fogging up. "This was... I mean... it's... I don't know..."

"Me neither," Annabel said, and the two began a slow, wheel-claw-assisted ride down the stairs.

"I'm alright," Lotte said, while visibly not being even a little bit alright. "I jus'... maybe it was... you know... the bit with the... the moth jar? ... Whazzat... whazzata..."

"It was," Annabel said. "A Lilou thing, I mean. From what you told me about her."

"So th'... th' bit w'..."

"Where she danced with Kamala? Yeah, that was you. ... And a little bit that thing the school reporter had going with the... you know, I'll tell you later. But yeah, that was a shout-out for you. I see you with that ring on and it's like, 'Man, what a lucky lady, getting married to a nice girl like you.'"

"I'm nice?" Lotte said.

"You're like a forever-kitten in glasses," Annabel said.

"...you're nice," Lotte said, picking Annabel up in the biggest hug she could manage while drunk, which wound up being an anaconda-like constriction.

"Thanks," Annabel squeaked.

"You din' have to. You're so nice. You're so nice, Annabel..." Lotte said.

They rolled through the lounge, and this time they drew more than a few curious eyes.

"Thanks, really," Annabel said, "but I'm having trouble breathing..."

"Robot!" Lotte said. "To the hospital!"

The hoverboard kept trundling forward.

"Lean left," Annabel said, and Lotte did not lean left in time to avoid the two gently pressing into the wall next to a niche with a tiki idol. "Okay," Annabel said, "on the count of three, we lean back. One..."

Lotte leaned back far enough that she lost her balance and flopped onto the ground with Annabel on top of her.

"Okay," Annabel said, "this works too, more or less."

"G'night," Lotte said, and drifted off to sleep. After a few seconds, she started snoring.

"Thank God she didn't finish that Zombie," Annabel said.

* * *

Lotte snapped back to awareness a short time later on a bed the size of a swimming pool. "Whu...?"

Reality crept into her perception. The bed was just really large, in the midst of a room in warm ivory colors, with an onyx slate of a TV looming at her. What time was it? The curtains next to the TV were drawn. She rolled off of bed and faceplanted for what felt like the eighth time that day(?). She crawled up the curtains and parted them and London at night filled her vision.

Oh hey, her phone was still in place! It was... three in the morning.

Where was Annabel?

She grabbed a chair from the work desk, realizing later she was thinking of using it as a weapon, and fumbled around the maze of doors and tiny hallways until she found Annabel dozing off on the couch in the living room of... somewhere in London.

When Annabel woke up, perhaps disturbed from her reverie by Lotte's presence, she saw Lotte standing over her with a chair raised high. In Annabel's defense, she froze up like the proverbial and whimpered "Please don't Misery me."

"Miserwhat?" Lotte said. "...I was gonna hit you?! N-no, that's not what--!" She sat on the chair before it was fully on the ground and landed with a "huf." She smiled a little too wide. "Where are we, exactly?" Lotte said.

"The London Hilton," Annabel said, straightening her hair. "You were really, really trashed, so I brought you... to... my... hotel room. Oh goddammit that sounds so awful."

"This is your--I thought--I mean if I did any thinking about it I'd have thought you lived here!" Lotte said. "This is bgger than some houses I've seen!"

"Yep," Annabel said. "It's pretty alright. And, uh, I called Luna Nova, I said you're okay, and--you know, they said it's cool that you are where you are, that's all you need to know what they said."

"Did you get Nelson on the phone?"

"Which one is she, again?"

"Broom teacher from Kentucky."

"Ah. So she's the horny one."

"They all are. Nelson's just the second-most-blatant about it."

Silence gripped the Balmoral Suite.

"Lotte," Annabel said, "I'm sorry I yelled at you and got you drunk."

"It's alright," Lotte said. "I told you before and I'll tell you again, I had fun. And if I had to wake up in a hotel room at three AM, I'd want it to be yours."

Annabel blushed. "Lotte... uh..." She reached for her purse, which lay beside her on the couch, and pulled out the script. She found a few napkins and cleaned the last page and held the script out for Lotte to read. Lotte leaned forward and read the last line.

> Freeze frame on TO BE CONTINUED. Credit song: "Reunited" by the Wu Tang Clan. Annabel Creme holds out the mic and drops it and goes to take Lotte Jansson on a date, bitches. We out. Wu Tang [Wu Tang Clan logo]!

(It had been a large blot of cream cheese.)

It was now Lotte's turn to blush. "We... we went on a date?"

"I guess," Annabel said. "It wasn't a very good one but we went on one."

Lotte stood up, and images of Misery flashed through Annabel's head. They abated when Lotte picked her up and hugged her, not the automatic hug of a drunk but one strong and nurturing, letting her breathe. With only a small sound Lotte lay them both on the couch, and only now did Annabel manage the mental strength to hug her back. She couldn't remember the last time she hugged someone who wasn't a relative. Had she ever? Lotte rest her head against hers, Annabel's voluminous blonde hair a cushion for them both. The scent of expensive floral shampoo defeated the stale air conditioning at last.

"I never once dared to dream of getting to date my favorite author," Lotte said. "I'll never forget tonight. ... At least I'll never forget the parts I remember."

"You do Yogi Berra proud," Annabel said, and Lotte could hear the smile in her voice.

"If that isn't the bear then I don't know who they are but I'm glad I'm like them."

"It's a high compliment, believe me." Annabel dared squish her cheek against Lotte's. "How's about I order us some dessert?"

Lotte took a chance: "Is there a place nearby that'll let us make s'mores?"


End file.
